


The Perfect Proposal

by come_slyther



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bit smutty, Draco being a fluffy boy, Established Relationship, Just a bit of fun, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Not much in the way of plot really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21564034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/come_slyther/pseuds/come_slyther
Summary: Five times Draco tried to propose; and one time Harry (accidentally) did.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 242





	The Perfect Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of fun to get me back into writing - I've hit a complete wall with my WIP Black's Books, so this is just to get me typing something again! There's not much in the way of plot here, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Thanks for reading x

There were lots of things that Draco Malfoy knew. He knew, for example, that there were still people that were wary of him, even after a decade spent serving the wizarding public as an Auror. He knew that when Pansy and Ginny were fighting - about once a month in their fiery relationship - nothing could cheer his best friend up like a sundae from Fortescue’s and an afternoon spent watching that ridiculous muggle TV show where they ferociously judged what other muggles wore (and yes, _of course_ he only had all seventeen seasons downloaded on the telly box thing for Pansy’s benefit). He knew ten ways of restraining a suspect that were lawful and a further six ways that most certainly were not. He knew how to brew salves that could fade the scrapes and bruises Teddy would get with his rambunctious play, and potions to settle his stomach, and a spell or two to glamour his blue hair when they went out into muggle London together.

There were lots of things that Draco Malfoy knew, and a few that he didn’t. But the most important, most irrefutable truth Draco knew was that he was completely, utterly, foolishly in love with Harry Potter. And, because of that, he was going to ask the prat to marry him.

-*-

During the time he spent living with a noseless evil maniac and his giant man-eating snake, Draco became somewhat anxious. Any misstep, anything perceived sleight, could turn a fellow into a snake snack. He was constantly watched, always on guard, his body taut, tense and quivering like a tightly-strung bow.

He got through that year by distracting himself with details: the curling ivy pattern of the sconces along the ballroom wall; how Nagini would pause for four seconds exactly, tongue in the air, just before she ate; the twenty-four heartbeats it took Voldermort to traverse the length of the Manor’s dining room, cloak whispering behind him with the softest hiss; the cacophony of colours that made up Harry Potter’s eyes as they stared desperately at him from between swollen, raw eyelids.

This manifested, years later, into a meticulousness and diligence in his job that allowed him to progress quickly as an Auror. He was careful and considered, and he found that order soothed him, calmed the sparks in his veins: anything that wasn’t quite right made him twitchy and irritable.

In the first year of their relationship, Harry and Draco had twenty-seven arguments (Draco counted). Harry didn’t understand why he had to return his plates and mugs to the correct spot in the cupboard when he stayed at Draco’s or why Draco would become somewhat cold and quiet when they were out in wizarding London. Draco, always on guard from trying to be the perfect boyfriend to the bloody Chosen One, found himself snapping when things weren’t right and proper, making snide comments that set Harry’s temper alight like flash paper. It was only when they moved in together, into the ground-floor flat of a charming Victorian conversion on the outskirts of wizarding London, that Harry started to understand how Draco’s coping mechanisms worked.

When he would come home from a day spent stoically weathering people’s scorn and suspicion, Draco would scrub down the kitchen or the bathroom, losing himself for an hour in the methodical cleansing of the space. When he had a bad nightmare, he would take a thousand-piece muggle jigsaw set and fit each tiny piece together until he had a whole, completed picture. When he and Harry fought - albeit a lot less often than before - Draco would rearrange his books or polish the pieces of Black silver they’d taken from Grimmauld Place or sit in the forest green leather armchair in their small library and make lists; lists of people, with no discernible connection as far as Harry could see; to-do lists and lists of potions ingredients and shopping lists and, once, a list of places he wanted to visit, muggle and wizarding alike.

It was a slow process, but over the four years they had lived together (and made sure they each attended their Mind Healer sessions), Draco had learned to talk to Harry when he was anxious, and Harry had learned how to navigate Draco when he needed both support and space. He’d leave Draco to work through things as he cleaned, bringing him a cup of tea when he was done and folding him into a hug, whispering how much he loved and appreciated Draco into his ear. If he woke while Draco was working through his jigsaws, he’d wrap a cashmere blanket around his shoulders, kissing him softly. After they fought, Harry would help him polish silver or rearrange books as he apologised (or listened to Draco’s apology). Babysitting Teddy - which they did every other weekend, to give Andromeda some time to herself - helped them both realise that they were there to support each other, and the rocky foundations of their relationship settled and solidified.

And so, when Draco decided he was going to propose to Harry, he knew it had to be special. In the moment when Draco knelt before Harry with the engraved gold ring he'd had made, he wanted Harry to feel all of Draco’s admiration and commitment and love for him. He wanted Harry to know that Draco wanted to grow old with him, that Draco wanted to see him be happy and tired and angry and sleepy in the morning, that Draco wanted all of Harry, and for Harry to have all of him, even the brittle and spiky parts.

In short, he wanted it to be absolutely perfect.

-*-

I

For their five-year anniversary, Harry and Draco booked a holiday. They’d pored over Draco’s list of places he wanted to visit, debating the merits of each, until they’d settled on Peru: Harry wanted to do the Inca Trail and Draco was keen to visit the Peruvian Amazon to see some of the rare and intriguing flora and fauna. He also wanted to squeeze in a visit to see the Nazca lines, having read an interesting article in The Astronomer’s Anthology about the geoglyphs.

They spoke to Robards and wrangled a month off; Andromeda, Teddy, Ron and Hermione saw them to the International Portkey Office, where they were to catch the 7.14pm to Lima. They arrived with plenty of time to spare, so Harry took Teddy off to grab some hot chocolate while Ron bought a round of Pumpkin Pasties from the welcome witch in the waiting room.

“You alright Malfoy?” Ron asked, taking in Draco’s paler-than-usual face and wide eyes and deciding against offering him a Pasty.

“Mmmm,” Draco answered distractedly, his hand once again reaching into the pocket of his trousers to touch the shrunken velvet box he’d stashed there.

“You look pretty nervous. Not a fan of long-haul travel?”

Draco shook his head and stopped trying to count the waiting room tiles. “Sorry Weasley, I’m just a little distracted.” He paused. “I’m going to ask Harry to marry me.”

Ron paused in taking a bite of his pastry (an act Draco knew held great significance). “Well, blimey mate. About time one of you did.”

Draco let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Giving me your blessing then?”

Ron clapped Draco on the shoulder. “You don’t need it, Malfoy. I always knew you were it for Harry.”

Draco let out a weak laugh. “Yeah? Five years ago, you seemed very much opposed to the idea.”

“Ah, had to make you sweat a bit, didn’t I? Retaliation for the whole vomming slugs situation.”

“If I recall correctly, you _literally_ brought that upon yourself.”

Ron chuckled and took the final bite of his Pasty just as Harry and Teddy rounded the corner, the little boy holding a paper cup in one hand and clutching the hem of Harry’s t-shirt in the other. Teddy was enthusiastically bopping along next to Harry as his hair flitted between the colours of the rainbow. Draco supressed a wince, imagining just how difficult bedtime was going to be for Andromeda.

“Good luck popping the question, mate,” Ron said, clapping a hand on Draco’s shoulder briefly. “Make sure you let me and Mione know as soon as he says yes.”

Draco nodded absently, his eyes on Harry as he picked Teddy up with one arm, his t-shirt pulling taut around his shapely biceps. With a deep breath, Draco joined them, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Teddy’s multi-coloured curls.

“You ready, love? We need to leave now.”

Harry nodded, handing Teddy to Andromeda and giving them both a hug. Teddy started to cry, the excitement of the day overwhelming him, which subsided to shaky hiccups when Draco conjured a small paper dragon which fluttered around Teddy’s head before coming to rest on his shoulder. It opened its mouth and gave a tiny roar that sounded like paper tearing, which made Teddy giggle delightedly (Draco pointedly ignored Andromeda rolling her eyes when he gave her a smug grin). Ron and Hermione promised to check in on Andromeda while they were gone, and with all their goodbyes said, they walked hand-in-hand to the departure zone.

When a cool voice requested that all passengers prepare for take off, they stood with their Portkey held between them, a small and rather ugly statue of a ceramic toad squatting on a mushroom. It began to glow faintly as a 10-second countdown appeared in glowing blue letters in the air. Draco looked at Harry, his hair a perpetual mess and his eyes bright with excitement, and had a wild, fleeting second of uncharacteristic spontaneity. Harry gave him a wonderfully crooked grin, catching their pinky fingers together around the Portkey, and Draco opened his mouth.

“Harry, will you m-”

There was the familiar sensation of a hook behind his stomach and the rest of Draco’s words were left behind as they span through time and space.

-*-

II

The ring burned a hole in the pocket of Draco’s sturdy (but perfectly tailored) cargo pants as they continued to hike towards Warmi Wañusqa, Dead Woman’s Pass. It was early on the second day of the Inca Trail and it was already feeling warm. They were walking through cloud forest, falling into the occasional beam of sunshine as a tributary of the Kusichaka river ran alongside them.

While Draco was definitely feeling the altitude, Harry was having a truly horrendous time of it, even though they’d spent the previous week acclimatising in Cusco. They had bought teas from the shaman in town to try and help; Draco had initially marvelled at the way they used coca leaves, pronouncing it _quite ingenious_ , until the novelty wore off with each fresh cup that he drank and Draco started to dread the sweet, cloying taste. Despite the gallons of tea and the sweets and the leaves that he chewed slowly as he walked, Harry was still feeling weak and light-headed. He ambled at a slow pace, taking frequent breaks to gasp in shallow breaths and close his eyes, allowing Draco to (somewhat guiltily) enjoy the breathtaking surroundings.

Ahead of them, Luna, Neville and Ernie Macmillan passed a flask of coca tea between them (oh how Draco had truly started to loathe coca tea) as they walked with their guide, Francis. Draco had been somewhat surprised to see them standing at the start of the trail on their first day, as he and Harry had met with Francis the day before in Cusco and he’d told them it would only be the three of them in the group. Francis, a Peruvian squib with a fantastic smile that beamed frequently in his burnished red-brown face, informed them cheerily that Luna, Neville and Ernie had booked last-minute and would be joining their hike.

It had been a little awkward at first, as Draco hadn’t seen Macmillan since Hogwarts; although he saw Luna and Neville occasionally as part of Harry's extended friend group, they weren't comfortably close. But Draco had discovered that there were some things that inexplicably bound people together, and trekking through the Andes - even after just two short days - was one of them.

They were told to keep magic to a minimum to avoid arousing suspicion from any of the other tourists or local porters that crossed their path. They were permitted to lighten and shrink their luggage, and to bring restricted-size wizarding tents with them, as long as they were careful (Draco had thought longingly of the four-bedroom _cargo mansion_ he owned last night when he and Harry had been spooned cosily in the small one-room tent they’d purchased from a wizard in Cusco).

Despite the challenges, there had been a few moments already where Draco almost blurted The Question out: when he’d spotted the sheer joy and incredulity on Harry’s face as they looked out on the ancient ruins of Patallaqta, the sun cocooning them in a haze of warmth; when they entered cloud forest and spied hummingbirds flitting through the trees like tiny colourful Snitches; when they snuggled together in their tent, achy legs tangled…but none of them had felt like _it_. The Moment.

It seemed to be an eternity later that they finally reached the Pass. There were groups of muggle hikers milling about and waiting on their friends to catch up, and they cheered and applauded them as Harry and Draco finally reached the top of their ascent. Harry’s face - relieved, happy, and a little bit astounded - as he looked down on the valley to see a rainbow eking its way over Cusco in the distance, just about made Draco’s heart burst. The adrenaline of the challenging hike and the jubilant atmosphere had Draco grabbing Harry’s face and pulling him in for a bruising kiss.

He broke away. The wind whipped around them as Draco wound his fingers in Harry’s hair, trailing his thumbs down that wonderful jawline, feeling the scratch of stubble. Harry’s eyes were bright, a clear green with some gold swirled in, like streaks of lightning. He stared into those eyes, Harry giving that crooked, dimpled grin which about broke Draco’s heart every time, and he thought, _this is it; this is why people sail seas and scale mountains and tell lies to Death Eaters._ “Harry, will you-”

“Harry! Draco! You made it. Come and have a celebratory cup of tea!”

Draco sighed as Luna waved them over to where the rest of their group was standing. He dropped his forehead to his boyfriend’s and let out a low groan.

“Come on, love, it’s really not that bad,” Harry said as he twined their fingers together and led Draco over to their group. “It tastes better than half the stuff Pomfrey used to give us.” 

_More coca tea. Sodding perfect._

-*-

III

On their fourth night, they were woken up at 3am to get ready to hike to the Sun Gate in time to see the sun rise over Machu Picchu. Harry grumbled as Draco set a soft Lumos to float above them, running a hand across his face and bringing the blanket – charmed to stay warm throughout the night – up to his chin. Harry was the night owl to Draco’s early morning lark; his post-Hogwarts love of a clandestine lie-in had slowly morphed into a habit of never waking until the last possible moment. Draco had been irritated by it when they'd first moved in together, as he was often the one to try and coax Harry up in time for their shifts at the DMLE, until Harry’d explained that the habit had been borne out of a rebellion against the many years he’d been woken at the crack of dawn by the sharp rapping of Petunia’s acrylics on his cupboard door.

"It's so early," Harry groaned.

"Or really late, depending on how you look at it," Draco replied and received a soft kick for his sass. He leaned over with a chuckle and pressed a light kiss to Harry's cheek, relishing the scratch of his fledgling beard. It was rather sexy, the facial hair, even when Harry was tired and rumpled and had that musky sour-sweet smell of sleep. There hadn’t been much opportunity for sex since they’d left Lima, what with Harry’s altitude sickness and their general exhaustion at the end of each day’s hike. And the dark stubble highlighting Harry’s chiselled jawline served to remind Draco just how long a week without having sex with Harry could feel.

“Come on, up.”

They dressed quickly (or, at least, he did; Harry stumbled through pulling on his clothing with his eyes half-closed) and packed up their bags, walking out into the blackness of pre-dawn. Draco cast a furtive spell to collapse their tent down into a light, compact bundle under the guise of pulling out the poles and pegs. Francis came over to them, rubbing his hands together to warm them up in the frigid cold of early morning.

"Okay, guys?" Draco and Harry smiled weakly. "We'll take breakfast in ten minutes and we'll start hiking to Inti Punku at about 3.45. It's a challenging walk but it will be beautiful to see the sun rise over Machu Picchu. It's an unforgettable sight."

Draco nodded and Francis moved on, walking over to where Luna was rooting through the earth near her recently-collapsed tent and Ernie was rubbing his eyes desolately. He clasped Harry's hand, twining their fingers together as he led them slightly away from the group.

They shoved their hefty packs the floor and sat down on the grassy bank. The sky was clear, the stars bright and crystalline, twinkling and sparkling in the moonless night. In the very distance, they spied a thin line of red on the horizon, bleeding slowly into the navy sky. Draco drew in a breath and leaned his shoulder against Harry's.

“Where’re you, then?” Harry asked. “Show me your stars.”

Draco looked up, hit for a second by just how large the sky looked. “I’m not sure you can see Draco in the Southern hemisphere.”

"It's a big, wide world isn't it?" Harry muttered, looking out at the expanse of starlit night and line of tents in the distance slowly coming to life as people were woken by their guides.

Draco brought their twined hands up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to them. "It is."

"I'm glad we did this. Together, I mean. I don't think I would have lasted this long on the trip without you." Harry lay back on the grassy verge, eyes closed and a peaceful smile on his face.

Draco felt his heart contract a little and his mouth curl into a small, soft smile. He reached out a hand and brushed one of Harry's wild, inky curls from his face. "I'm glad, too." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Harry’s mouth, instantly feeling an answering pressure and a swipe of Harry’s tongue on his lower lip, seeking permission to deepen the kiss. He didn’t think about the fact that they were out in the open, in a campsite filled with Muggles as well as their old schoolmates and friends, that they could be seen by anyone; in that moment he was as consumed with Harry as he had been the first night they went home together from the pub. One of Harry’s hands curled around the nape of his neck, fingers twining through the short hairs there, the other holding on to his hip as they kissed languidly, content to enjoy the feel of each other’s mouths.

Draco pulled away softly. “I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” Harry smiled.

Draco bit his lip. Now was as good a time as any. _Or was it? What if it’s not the right moment? What if it’s not right and he says no?_ “Harry, I’ve been meaning to ask… well- do you…”

He paused, collecting himself. Before Draco could fully steel his nerves, Longbottom’s voice broke through their bubble, bringing him sharply back into the present. “Quit canoodling, you two! Brekkie’s up!”

Draco sighed, extricating himself from Harry’s hold, and sat up.

“Is everything okay, love?” Harry asked as he stood up and extended a hand out. Draco took it, allowing himself to be pulled up into his boyfriend’s arms. He leaned his forehead to Harry’s and nodded.

“Yeah, it’s nothing that can’t wait. Let’s get breakfast and then see what all this fuss is about a sunrise.”

-*-

IV

The Portkey Office at Puerto Maldonado was nothing more than a small wooden shack on the banks of the Tambopata river. The humidity, when they walked out of the boundary of the cooling charms, hit Draco like a wall. It was just after midday and the air was swollen with heat, resting heavy on his skin, which instantly achieved a sweaty, rosy gleam, and made every breath feel like treacle in his chest. It somehow even bloody _smelled_ green.

Harry, still a little pale and wan from his altitude sickness, followed their guide down to a small motorised boat which had been charmed to take them to their jungle lodge in the middle of the rainforest. Draco breathed a sigh of relief as the boat started meandering down the river, throwing a cool breeze at them. Sprays of water rained on his face as they navigated the currents and waterways. The river was a muddy brown colour, banks of reddish clay seen on either side, widening every once in a while to accommodate the occasional hut. Their guide pointed out egrets in the distance.

They’d said goodbye to Francis, Luna, Neville and Ernie back in Cusco after a hearty meal and a well-earned beer together in Aguas Calientes, the small touristy town at the bottom of Machu Picchu (“Are you telling me we could have just got a bus up there?!” Harry had half-laughed, half-huffed). Their new guide was Victor, a tall and striking wizard who worked at the magical reservation they were going to be staying in for the week. He clearly had an affinity for animals, having already pointed out a small, feathered lizard that flicked out an electric blue tongue in greeting, and a butterfly that changed colour to blend into its surrounding like a chameleon – and that was just at the Portkey office.

The excitement of staying in the Amazon, the largest magical rainforest in the entire world and host to thousands of rare wizarding flora and fauna, stayed with Draco as they disembarked on a tiny, red-clay bank and took a short, steep hike up to a collection of wooden cabins. They were spread out in a loose circle, with a path running between them and flanked with palm trees and plants with bright tube-shaped flowers; there were fairy-like creatures flitting from plant to plant, sipping from the pools of pollen-dusted water cupped in the centre of the flowers. The path continued on towards a larger structure, which Victor informed them was the dining hall.

He led them to the third cabin, a wooden hut with a roof that appeared to be made from woven palm fronds, and two hammocks strung up above the small deck outside.

“The cabin is keyed to your magical signatures, so you just need to tap your wand at the door to open it.” Inside, it was compact but neat. In the centre of the room was a king-sized bed made up in soft white cotton sheets; a barrier spell designed to repel insects was draped over it like gauzy netting, emitting a soft white-blue glow and twinkling like strands of stars woven together. The bed was made of a dark wood to match the rustic furniture dotted around the room and the floorboards; Draco was pleasantly surprised at how romantic it felt. They dropped their rucksacks to the floor, Draco sighing faintly at the coolness of the shady room.

“Bathroom’s here,” Victor said, opening a door at the far end of the room. It led to a small room with a shower made from what appeared to be bamboo, and a loo. The ceiling was open to the rainforest, and the humongous, meaty leaf of some kind of palm poked up over the wooden wall of the bathroom; on it lay one of the fairy creatures they’d seen earlier, their snores adding a high-pitched buzz to the cacophony of insects chirping around them.

“Why don’t you guys have a bit of a nap, get changed, freshen up, we can meet in the dining hall in an hour or so to have some food and go over your schedule for the week?”

Draco nodded as they made their way back into the main room. “Sounds great, Victor, thank you.”

“Oh, and one more thing. We’re in the middle of the rainforest, and obviously there’ll be lots of wildlife about. Please try to refrain from eating in your rooms, as it can attract all manner of magical and Muggle animals. And if you do eat in here, ensure you place any half-eaten food or food waste under a Stasis charm, so the critters can’t get at it.”

Harry chuckled. “We will, thanks Victor.” With a broad smile, he left them.

Harry carefully pulled two strands of the barrier spell open and climbed into the bed. When Draco followed suit, he felt sparks on his skin where the spell touched him.

“This is nice, isn’t it?”

Harry nuzzled into Draco’s neck the instant he lay down, pressing open-mouthed kisses over his collarbones. “Merlin, Draco, you look so fucking fit with your skin all flushed. I thought Victor was never going to leave us alone.”

Draco chuckled and tilted his head to give Harry better access, feeling his cock starting to thicken and press against his trousers. He ran his hand down Harry’s back, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his shorts and gripping a handful of his gorgeous arse.

“Take your fucking clothes off.” Harry growled, pulling back to rip his own t-shirt off.

Draco barely noticed where he chucked his clothes because suddenly Harry was sprawled out gloriously naked, his coffee-and-cream skin darker on his arms after trekking in the sun. His eyes followed the trail of dark, wiry hair that led from his chest down to his cock, thick and red and proud and _utterly delicious._ Draco crawled over to his boyfriend and ran a hand down his chest, dipping his head to nose at the juncture between his hip and thigh. The scent of musk and cedar bodywash and _Harry_ filled his nostrils as he sucked gently at the skin.

“Draco, don’t tease. It’s been a week since we last did anything and I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

Draco laughed. “So keen.”

“Well, we only have an hour.”

“So romantic.”

“I meant, I’m always keen for you, oh light of my life.”

He nipped at Harry’s hipbone, earning a chuckle, before he leaned down and mouthed along Harry’s prick, laving the hot, velvety skin all the way down to the base and then back up to the thick head. He tasted the slightly bitter tang of pre-come as he licked at the slit, before opening his mouth and swallowing down a good five inches of Harry’s cock in one go.

“Oh, fuck, _yes_ ,” Harry hissed, one hand tangling itself in Draco’s hair.

He knew Harry wanted it fast right now; later, perhaps even that night, they’d fuck slowly and languidly and there’d be time for teasing. Draco felt his cock twitch against his thigh and leak a liberal amount of pre-come at the thought of being completely and utterly filled, of Harry grinding his hips into Draco’s arse, or biting on his shoulder. He took Harry right down to his throat and swallowed, causing him to pull a little on Draco’s hair as he bucked his hips up and choke out a moan.

“I’m not going to last very long,” Harry growled and Draco pulled up to suck on the head, using his hand to pump the rest of Harry’s prick in the tight grip he liked best. A few strokes later and a particularly filthy swirl of his tongue around the spongy head of his prick and Harry was coming down his throat, babbling, “Oh fuck, Draco, I love you so much, oh _fuckfuckfuck-._ ”

Draco pulled back, swiping a hand over his mouth. His lips felt swollen, stretched, and the taste of Harry’s orgasm lingered on his tongue. His erection throbbed as he took it in hand, smearing the pearly liquid at the tip down the length to lubricate his strokes. He leaned over Harry, pulling him in for a filthy kiss that sparked all the way down to his balls. It didn’t take much to tip him over the edge; one of Harry’s hands skating across his nipple, the other brushing down to his balls, and a few strokes later he was painting Harry’s stomach with thick white ropes.

He collapsed next to his boyfriend, breathing heavily, the euphoria of his orgasm settling into a heaviness in his limbs and a sudden, almost primal need to nap.

“Do your thing, Potter.”

Harry chuckled weakly and waved his hand over them, wordlessly and wandlessly casting a cleaning charm that skittered over Draco’s skin and fizzed lightly when it swept his balls. He rolled over and placed his head on Draco’s chest.

“Needed that. Was great.” Harry pressed a soft kiss to Draco’s skin, just at the tip of one of the _Sectumsempra_ scars that zig-zagged across his chest, before yawning. Draco hummed in agreement and stroked lightly down Harry’s side. It had only been a blowjob and a wank, nothing particularly exotic or special, and yet he felt loose and content and happy, with Harry’s breaths on his chest and his hair tickling Draco’s chin.

“Harry?” It came out as a whisper. “Will you marry me?”

Harry gave a soft snore. Draco laughed and tightened his arms around him.

-*-

V

Their week in the Amazon had been truly phenomenal, Draco felt. He’d seen flowers in all shades of the rainbow, their petals used as beds for small, furry sprite-like beings that Victor called _Caipora_. They had camped among the giant redwood trees in a modified tent, waiting for hours in the stifling heat just to catch a glimpse of the elusive Giant Peruvian Bowtruckles, which were six foot tall and actually rather terrifying. Harry had spent an afternoon speaking to an anaconda that was basking in the shallows of the river while Draco hung back, fascinated and fearful in equal measure: the sight of Harry roaring with laughter, before turning to Draco and saying with a wink, “I think he looks quite delicious too” as a twenty foot snake bobbed its head behind him would stay with him for a while. They’d swum in crystalline pools, the Peruvian equivalent of gillyweed giving them not just gills and webbed feet, but exotically bright scales too. They’d shagged on just about every part of their cabin, including in the shower which resulted in _fourteen_ mosquito bites on Draco’s arse and a rather sheepish trip to the food hall to beg the cook for some of her tea tree salve.

But none of the beauty and majesty of the Amazon could compare to the sheer thrill of flying high above the Nazca Desert on broomsticks, the giant geoglyphs spread out below them as the setting sun cast everything in a gilded glow and in the very very distance, a Peruvian Vipertooth flew in a lazy circle.

The wind was roaring in his ears and he couldn’t hear a thing except the faint screech of the dragon. His hair was whipped around his face, and his skin felt flushed and rosy even though he’d applied super-strength sun screen. But he was smiling so wide his cheeks were hurting, and his stomach swooped every time he changed course on his broomstick, and he felt light and weightless in a way he didn't usually. He glanced up ahead and caught sight of Harry, face alight with laughter as he executed a perfect corkscrew through the air.

“I FUCKING LOVE YOU HARRY POTTER AND I WANT YOU TO MARRY ME,” Draco screamed.

Harry laughed, unhearing, and flew on.

-*-

They’d arrived home from their travels in the early hours and, having dropped their travelling robes in a heap by the Floo, collapsed fully clothed in their bed. Harry’d been woken by the mid-morning sunshine streaming into the room, Draco’s hair tickling his face and his stomach grumbling loudly. It was testament to how tired Draco was that he didn’t shift, or jump up startled at how long he'd spent in bed. Harry’d stumbled up, showered and changed, and left to go and pick up Teddy from Andromeda’s.

When he got back, Draco was quietly sipping at a cup of tea in the kitchen, unopened owl post stacked neatly in a pile to his right, opened post sorted in smaller, equally neat piles in front of him. Teddy had whooped in delight and rushed over to his cousin, clambering up into his lap and flinging his arms around Draco’s neck.

Harry grinned as he watched Draco slip a steadying arm around Teddy’s waist and ruffle his hair – bright as moonlight and falling in waves, the way Harry knew Draco’s did before he cast his charms at it – before leaning down to press a kiss to Teddy’s head.

“Hello little hellion,” Draco said affectionately. “Did you actually miss me or is this just a show in an attempt to get presents?”

“Presents!” Teddy shouted excitedly.

Draco snorted. “At least he’s honest. Too honest, perhaps.” He set Teddy down on the floor and flicked his nose. “We’ll make a Slytherin of you yet, Ted.”

Harry chuckled as he walked over to the two of them, a box of breakfast pastries in his hands. He gave Draco a brief morning kiss as he set the pastries down on the table, before heading over to the kettle to grab a cuppa. Belatedly remembering the travelling cloaks he’d walked past on his way out (and back in), he hurried back out to the hall to pick them up, knowing Draco would grumble about creases if he spotted them on the floor.

If he’d picked up his own cloak first, he probably wouldn’t have heard the thunk of a something falling from Draco’s pocket and hitting the floor; he wouldn’t have fallen to his knees to grab the box – for it was a box, small and black and velvet-covered – from under the console table in the front room; and he wouldn’t have been on his knees, the box open to reveal two beautiful matching rings nestled among midnight-coloured silk, when Draco walked out of the kitchen.

“Harry, I-.” Draco stopped abruptly. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Harry said, his voice faint. Suddenly, all those times over the last few weeks when he had thought Draco wanted to say something to him came rushing back with an awful clarity.

Draco seemed a bit rooted to the spot, so Harry held the box out to him. For some reason, he seemed to have lost his grip on reality because he said the first words that came to mind. “Fancy it then?”

Draco shut his eyes and groaned softly. “No fucking way. I did not try and ask you _five times_ for you to accidentally propose to me with the words _fancy it then_.”

“Wait – five times?!”

Draco was spared the need to answer when Teddy bounded out of the kitchen, a pastry squished to a pulp in one small fist. He stopped when he saw Harry on the floor, the ring box still held aloft.

“What are you doing, Uncle Harry?”

“I’m asking Uncle Draco to marry me, Ted.”

“Really?” Teddy eyed him shrewdly for a moment. “Does this mean I get to have ice cream?”

Harry chuckled. “Depends on what Uncle Draco says, Ted.”

“Uncle Draco, you should say yes so I can have ice cream.”

“That’s a very sound argument, Ted.” Harry stood up and walked over to Draco. “Fancy it then?”

Draco’s lip twitched. “Yes, I think I rather do.”

A brilliant smile broke out over Harry’s face. “So, we’re engaged? We’re going to get married?”

“And I’m getting ice cream?” Teddy added hopefully.

“Yes.”

Teddy whooped in joy as Harry pulled Draco into a crushing hug before kissing him soundly.

And while it wasn’t what he thought the Moment would end up being – with Harry laughing uproariously while Teddy yelled “Ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream!” as he skipped around them - it was far more perfect than Draco could have planned after all.


End file.
